


Possibility

by Indybaggins



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, M/M, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-27
Updated: 2006-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had they missed something obvious?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possibility

 

 

They’d always cared for each other, in a way.

Greg had both despised and admired how Colin had always been there throughout the years, looking on from the sideline, not saying very much but glowing as soon as he was looked at. He had hated Ryan too, for being the one to look at Colin, encourage him, pull him out of the darkness and shyness he so innately seemed to posses and making him a part of the group, a part of everything. 

Colin had always felt uneasy when faced with Greg’s cursing and yelling and his farce of cheekiness, but his dislike for him had been marred with a certain compassion, a knowledge that beneath the stinging words there was a hurt much deeper than most gave him credit for. 

And after a couple years of observing each other from afar, friendliness and professionalism in front of the world, struggle and jealously in front of Ryan, and heavy silences when they were alone, a tentative bound had formed between them. They’d started to appreciate each other, each finding a certain steadiness in the other’s behaviour. Their characters were a never ending show of extremities, with Ryan, season after season, sometimes clueless, sometimes all-knowing, comfortably trapped between them. 

It was only after Ryan had left, left them so _pointedly_ for his wife and kids as if they hadn’t been there all along, that they had realised there was more, something stronger than the memory of Ryan binding them together. It was an attraction, a desire almost. A desire for the past, for Ryan, neither cared; it was there and that was all that mattered. 

 

So when they had met in a hotel room, far away from stage lights and cameras and Ryan’s rumbling baritone they hadn’t expected to find much more than a possibility, a course of action that could have been taken somewhere along the road, but never had been. 

Instead it had been calm and serene almost, no lights in the room, but no memories either, only touches that lacked conviction but years between them that made up for it somehow, and when Greg cried out into the pillows, Colin pulled him close and held him in an overly strong grip, arms shaking and an uneasy feeling in his chest. 

Greg hadn’t complained, and so they’d stayed that way, each afraid to move, to lose more of the closeness that bound them to nothing, and when the morning light came, Colin found himself unwilling to move again, one night enough to accustom him to a touch from someone who seemed equally uninspired to ever let go.

After that, Greg found himself despising and wanting Colin even more, everything he’d felt for him enlarged somehow but overshadowed by a sullen feeling, a shadowless grey hue of emotion, and he almost hoped it would become as real as it could have been ten years earlier. 

They continued to meet, sporadically, the sex a blatant lie, but the closeness real and touching and they both often silently wondered if they had missed something obvious when there still had been time to change it. 

Maybe they had.

 

 

 

 


End file.
